Beacons
by James Prior
Summary: A magical visit from a pirate ship leaves eight year old Emma Swan with a dream for a better life. Meanwhile, David Nolan is awake, but remembers nothing from before the accident. Nothing, save for the fact that he has a daughter. A daughter named Emma Swan. Will his love be enough to reunite the family and break the curse? Slightly AU for different specific details of the curse.
1. Chapter 1

Beacons

An OUAT Fanfiction.

A cold slab of water slapped Killian Jones across the cheek. He sucked in a choked breath of salt and night air. The grind and filth of the ocean was everywhere, through his dripping hair, down his boots. It even coated the wheel, leaving a lumpy, slick residue on the bars as Killian strained to right the Jolly Roger.

"Cap'in!" Percy, a young boy toting an oil lantern that had long since gone out yelped above the storm.

"Stay inside your quarters," Killian roared back. The fool wasn't strong enough to help, and would just get in the way. Percy reached out and grasped the stiff leather of Killian's jacketed elbow.

"But, Cap'in," He spat water from his mouth. "I see a light."

"We're in the void, Percy," Killian gritted his teeth as yet another tidal wave rocked the ship. "There _are_ no—" Percy cut him off, yanking his chin down with a small hand.

"Look."

And there it was. Off in the distance, shining through the pelting storm. His compass spun faster as he yanked the wheel, steering the ship towards their only hope.

"We're nowhere near the door to the enchanted forest," he said. "Or Neverland." They'd been blown too far off track to be close to anything, really.

"If we die," Killian mumbled. "it'll be on your head." Percy's arm sagged a little, and the lantern creaked as it swung.

"Land Ho!" Killian roared, and the crew scrambled to his side as they peered at the light, growing closer and closer. The waves threw tantrums around them, but the ship glided smoothly, as if pulled in by some kind of invisible arm.

The air was warm as it enveloped them. They would be okay.

#

Emma Swan sat, letting the backs of her good, black shoes scuff the parking lot as she dragged her heels back. It made a pleasant scratching sound, and Emma didn't have much else to do. She'd done a decent job with scratching them up so far, but Ms. Mullberry wouldn't be pleased.

Then again, Ms. Mullberry was sure to be un-pleased already, for this wasn't the first time a couple had returned Emma.

When Emma was younger, she used to remember each one. But, she had stopped counting after fifteen. Partly because, back then, she wasn't very sure if she'd be able to count much higher, and partly because it made her chest feel heavy, and the tip of her nose hurt every time she thought about it.

Eight years old, and not a single person in the world to call her own.

She sighed, watching Mr. Hills and his wife scurry to their car, careful to not notice her. Usually the couples waited for Ms. Mullberry to pick her up. This one couldn't bear the wait and decided it would be best if they dropped her off.

The click of Ms. Mullberry's heels echoed up the sidewalk, stopping short of Emma.

"There you are," the woman said. Emma didn't look up.

"You couldn't convince them?" she asked. There was an oil spot the size of her fist on the pavement, and she nudged it with her newly rattied shoe.

"They weren't ready," Ms. Mullberry said. "Onwards and upwards."

Emma rolled her head back, giving the woman an unappreciative eyebrow lift.

"Wait here." Ms. Mullberry's heels click-clacked down the concrete as she returned to the building.

Emma looked to the side and nodded to the security guard, who slouched lazily against the front door. He didn't nod back. He was asleep.

"Onwards and upwards," Emma muttered, returning to the scratching process.

A high-pitched screech echoed through the lot, followed by a flash. Emma blinked away the fuzzy red spots in her vision, jumping a little as a large chunk of wood bumped her toes.

Floating above the ground, as if sailing on air, was the biggest, most ancient looking ship Emma had ever seen. Men in tattered, red clothes leapt and pulled at the ropes. Water dripped from the sides. A man in a dark leather coat, with a shiny hook for a hand, shouted to the others.

"Wait here!" he said, grabbing a rope and propelling down the side of the boat. His thin heels clanked on the pavement, and he jumped as he noticed Emma. Particularly when he noticed how close Emma was to the front edge of the ship.

"We almost ran you over!" he shouted, jogging over. The man shook his head, freeing yet more water from his short, yet jagged dark locks.

His eyes were kind, but his hook probably wouldn't be allowed inside the building.

"You can't park that here," Emma ventured.

"Didn't mean to frighten you." He plunked down beside her, scratching the back of his head with the curve of his hook.

"You'll get in trouble," Emma tried again. The man leaned in, eyes twinkling, but his breath smelled of something bitter.

"Good."

Emma didn't quite know what to say to that.

"Where might I find your king?" the man asked.

Emma stared blankly.

"Your…ruler?" he said, squinting and tilting his face to the side.

"Ms. Mullberry has rules. I mean. She's in charge of me." Emma said.

"And, you think she'll mind if we use this port?" the man asked. Emma glanced back at the security guard. He still slumbered on.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." Emma said. The man poked her elbow with his hand.

"I'm Killian," he said. "I'm not going to hurt you, you don't need to cry."

"I'm not."

"Lass, there's an ocean in your eyes."

Emma reached up to touch her cheek, recoiling at the feel of tears. She wiped them on her sleeve. The grey fabric grew dark under the spot.

"It's not you," Emma said. Where was Ms. Mullberry?

"Then who is it, Love?" Killian said. Emma looked up at him, feeling the pinpricks in her chest turn to a steady ache. "Not just an ocean," Hook leaned toward her, gazing intently. "There's a whole storm in there."

Her throat tightened, and her voice was all wobbly as she said, "They didn't want me." Hook grinned and shook his head.

"They're the color of the mists and fog that settles over the water." Hook said, leaning back.

"They're just eyeballs." Emma replied.

"They're just people." Hook answered.

"They were supposed to be my new parents," Emma said. Hook grimaced.

"That's uncomfortable."

Emma hiccupped. "I don't like being given back."

Hook picked at a loose thread in the seem of his boot.

"I've yet to meet someone who does," he offered. "I took up sailing instead. Good for the body." Emma stared at his hook.

"There's no water to sail on around here."

The thud of the door to the building sounded, and the frantic clicking started.

"Kevin," Ms. Mullberry's voice twinged from the side of the lot. "You were supposed to be watching her." The woman's voice was clipped as she shouted, "Emma, come here."

"Sir?" Kevin was speaking now, and Killian jumped to his feet. "You can't park your bus here." Killian made a funny face. "I'm going to have to call the officials.

"That won't be necessary." Killian grinned and jumped for the rope, letting his comrades pull him up.

Ms. Mullberry pulled out her phone.

Chaos ensued as the men let the sails loose, twisting and pulling the ropes. A strong wind whistled through the lot, whipping at the newly unfurled flag at the top of the mast. A black square with a shoddy painted skull and crossbones.

"We've got a suspicious person—" Ms. Mullberry tried to shout above the gale. The ship creaked and groaned as it shifted backwards.

"He's driving off!" Kevin shouted.

"Emma!" Killian leaned over the rails of the boat as it floated higher, shimmering.

"What?" Emma shouted back.

"There is always an ocean to sail upon," he called. "If you know how to look!" With a flourish of his hands, the ship bobbed and swayed, then shimmered and faded from existence.

And Emma was left on the ground with nothing but her scuffed shoes and Ms. Mullberry's voice saying, "They just peeled out and took off, could've hit one of the children." Emma didn't bother to correct her, instead, she stared at the blank space where the ship had been. The stains the water had left on the lot. The place Killian had sat by her side. When he'd said her eyes had storms.

A hand landed on her shoulder.

"You," Ms. Mullberry said, "could've been in a heap of trouble."

Emma grinned.

"Good."


	2. Chapter 2

Beacons: Chapter Two.

David Nolan stared out his fogged window, tapping his finger against his mouse in apprehension. The cup of hot chocolate had been drained to the bottom, leaving only a brown film of slime mixed with sandy flecks of cinnamon.

The window didn't get any more fascinating as he waited, but his heart was fixated on something else. It beat faster. And faster.

He groaned and tilted his head back. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and he hadn't done much more than stare at his screen. He clicked the other tab, opening facebook. Before he made up his mind, the words "Mary Margaret" were off his fingers and in the search bar.

David's cursor hovered around the "Friend" button.

_Hey, it's me. David. We met six months ago at Ruby's party._

Backspace. He couldn't send a friend request with that. That was straight up weird. Sighing, he clicked her profile picture, one of the only things he could look through without being her friend.

She'd changed it to a doodle of a bluebird a week and a half ago. He clicked past it to the next. His chest tightened as her brown eyes shone from the screen. Her hair cupped her round face, and David imagined putting his hands right there, feeling her softness, her dimples.

It should've been weird. But, David had the feeling as though he'd done it a million times before. A step at the door.

David clicked over to the other tab, glancing up to meet his visitor's face.

"Mayor Mills," he said.

"Sheriff," She nodded, her feathered hair shifting in the slightest. She crossed the room, stopping at his shoulder. "I see you're…" she paused at his screen. "Hard at work." Her lips thinned, and David fought off the urge to turn the monitor off. "Am I not paying you to," she waved her hand around, "Sheriff things?"

"My apologies, Mayor Mills. I was just having lunch." The mayor glanced into his empty mug, wrinkling her brow.

"Then where's the food?" she asked. David tapped the glass.

"Coffee?" She raised an eyebrow, nudging David out of the way. He made way for her, and she plugged a usb into the port.

"You pay me to work, not eat," David said. "What's that?"

The mayor's stare hardened, "The newest update for the security software I asked you to download last week." David shifted uneasily, his breath catching, eyes never leaving the topmost corner, where his personal files lay. After an eternity, Mayor Mills stood, taking the usb with her.

"Finish the paperwork from the Carlson case," she said. "I need to file for damage."

"Is that all you needed?" David asked.

"Just do it," she answered, pinning him with a final icy stare before exiting the room.

David waited a good five minutes before returning to his seat and opening the folder titled, "old paperwork."

He couldn't be too careful with Regina running around.

Images and records filled the screen, and he flicked through them.

The name and photo of one particular blonde little girl came to the front again and again.

"Emma Swan."

It'd become a second job, researching Emma. It'd taken so long to find her, and even longer to get information. He still had yet to figure out why—how he was her father. Twenty-four year olds don't have daughters.

And she was eight. He would've been so young.

For the thousandth time, he strained to recall that period of his life, but came up short. It was pointless remembering anything specific before the accident. Mayor Mills had found him just in time, it'd been a miracle that he was still alive.

Dr. Hopper said his memories might return, someday, but after several years, the possibility became smaller and smaller.

It was strange, going about life, knowing everyone else knew him better than he did. Mayor Mills especially.

All David knew when he woke up was that he was hungry, and Emma Swan was his daughter.

No one else seemed to pay his questions serious mind, but it was

He'd paid three months rent to Mr. Gold to enlist his help—quietly. The man hadn't disappointed. David remembered the conversation.

The man had played hard to get, and David was frustrated, but he opened up soon enough.

#

_Three Years Prior_

_ David walked into the dusty wood-box that was Mr. Gold's antique shop. The man gripped a cane in one fist, a teacup in the other. So caught up in examining the glassware, running a fingertip over a chip in the edge, that he didn't notice David's presence for a moment. His eyes wide open, chin set in some sort of edged determination—the world was lost to the man._

_ David coughed. Mr. Gold straightened, like a wall had slid ramrod through his body, blocking off, protecting his soul from all he encountered. He turned his head slowly. His pale brown hair sparkled in the beam of sunlight that pushed through the grimy window. _

_ "I've heard you can help anyone," David said. Mr. Gold gave a crooked smile, his eyebrows raising in condescension. _

_ "Most anyone," he said. His cane thudded on the thick floor as he stepped closer._

_ "Emma Swan," David felt the name tumble from his lips. The name that hadn't stopped banging around his head, screaming in his heart. The name that refused to be forgotten. _

_ "It's been a while since you've come to me about her," Mr. Gold paused, catching David's gaze, amusement pouring from his words. "But, you wouldn't remember that, would you?" _

_ David's heart rate shot through the ceiling. He was right. He was right._

_ "No one else thinks she's real," David said. "They think I've forgotten about her. They think I'm…"_

_ "Crazy?" Mr. Gold offered._

_ David nodded, throat dry. _

_ "It's rather uncommon," Mr. Gold picked a ring from the shelf, letting the green stone flash in the light. "For a man of your age to have a daughter of five years."_

_ "She's five?" David's voice caught._

_ "What are you," Mr. Gold asked. "Twenty-four?" _

_ David froze for a moment. He reached out for his age, feeling the familiar number slip from his fingers each time he grew close to it. His mind clamped up. _

_ Yes. The answer is yes._

_ "Yes," David said, appreciating the immediate relief that followed. _

_ "You were just a teen," Gold said. "Teenage parents tend to cause a bit of a stir in small towns." _

_ "The mother?" David leaned forward. Mr. Gold shook his head._

_ "You never told me that, Mr. Nolan." _

_ David thunked his head to the glass case. _

_ "What did I tell you, then?" He was desperate. Anything._

_ "You brought her to me," Gold said. "Asking for discretion. An adoption agency."_

_ "Where is she now?" David asked. _

_ "I'm afraid the adoption was closed," Gold said. David's chest tightened. _

_ "Then un-close it," David said, steel in his voice._

#

_Present day._

David read over the file.

"_Alternative Care Children's Place"_

"_A Better Home"_

"_Improper placement"_

"_Potential match"  
>"Improper placement"<em>

"_Potential match"_

"_Improper placement"_

A sick feeling settled in his abdomen. Why didn't anyone want her? She was perfect—she deserved better.

Scrolling back to the first page, David printed off the contact information of the agency.

It was time. He'd waited long enough. Mary Margaret might not be attainable, but Emma Swan was his daughter. He was a fool if he was going to let a mistake he didn't remember stop him from finding her.

#

Across town, Mayor Mills sat, poised at her sleek computer. Her scowl deepened as the new software install perched in stubborn rebellion over the "99%" mark.

Gone were the days of stepping in on David Nolan. She could monitor his activity just fine from here. The speaker dinged, and the program loaded.

The screen flickered, displaying David's desktop, the files, the information.

Her eyes darkened.

This wouldn't do at all.


	3. Chapter 3

Beacons: Chapter Three.

**Trigger Warning: Child Abuse**

The thumping. It always started with the thumping. Then the clanging. The slamming of doors. The shuffle of boots. The clatter of a chair hitting the floor. The screams. The screams were bad. But, the footsteps were worse. The footsteps that traveled up the hallway, stopping at the door.

Emma huddled in the bathtub, blanket pulled over her head. Tighter and tighter. She had to be smaller.

The door shook.

"Get out," Todd's voice boomed.

Emma's hands shook. She clenched her fists harder, squeezing the quilt.

"This is my house," the shouts came louder and stronger. Her safe haven echoed, bouncing his hoarse words back and forth. Curse words rang forth.

The clink in the lock, fumbling, then a click.

A massive hand grabbed her arm, yanking her from the tub. Todd stood over her. Her face pressed to his tailored suit. The smell of pipe smoke filled her nose.

Her feet drifted over the tile, then the carpet as Todd dragged her into the hall. Her head smacked the wall. Todd's hand pinned her in place, holding the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—" Emma screamed. And the belt came down.

#

Mayor Mills cursed. David's house was empty. The garage missing its rattletrap truck. The Police station held nothing but a deputy. She'd scanned the video feeds, checked the woods. Nothing.

She was too late.

David was gone.

The child was coming.

She had to prepare.

Shaking herself loose, Regina gathered the pulsing stones from her purse. She whispered the sacred words into the rock, and they sparked at her touch. Regina allowed herself a grin.

Walking to the front door, Regina ground the rocks into the threshold, then blew away the dust.

The curse would be fully effective.

It would have been better for Charming had he never found the girl.

#

_Earlier that Day._

_ David stared across the countertop, "It's not enough anymore, I need her," _

_Mr. Gold gritted his teeth, leaning forward, "I'm afraid acquiring children is a bit more difficult than the trade I typically run in." _

_ "Anything," David said. Mr. Gold turned to the wall, fiddling the safe._

_ "This kind of…power comes with a price," Mr. Gold said. David's heart constricted. _

_ "I don't have much money," he said._

_ "Not necessarily monetary," Mr. Gold padded back to the counter, laying a stack of papers down. _

_ "Then what?" David asked. _

_ "I had a feeling you'd be coming with this kind of request. Call it foresight," he grinned, but somehow it didn't look quite right. "I've had the contracts drawn up for quite some time."_

_ "What are you saying?" David asked. _

_ "It's been brought to the agency's attention that Emma does indeed have a legal guardian." _

_ "What?" David suddenly felt lightheaded._

_ Mr. Gold placed his hands on the glass. _

_ "Due to the alternative nature the organization, there were loopholes."_

_ "So?" David's knee bounced._

_ "They were delighted when I called and presented some…interesting findings of their procedures. They are quite eager to have Emma returned to her biological father."_

_ Mr. Gold pushed the top page across the counter to David. _

_ "Sign here, become a father again," he said. _

_ "How much is this going to cost?" David asked. _

_ "Let's just say," Gold paused, tilting his head. "You'll owe me one."_

_ David's pen scratched on the paper, and for a split second, he could've sworn a spark of blue twinkled across the page. _

#

_Current time_

David could've waited for the agency to drop Emma off. He really could've. But, every second since signing those papers was agony.

The organization had been a little surprised when he called, saying they weren't expecting to transfer her till the next month, but relented when Mr. Gold spoke to them. The company was surprisingly happy to get Emma off their hands after blackmail.

The address Ms. Mullberry gave him over the phone was a little over five hours from Storybrook. David hadn't stopped to pee once.

The emerald ring glinted from the chain around his neck. Mr. Gold had insisted he take it. David turned from the stoplight into the neighborhood, staring at the mansions surrounding him. His car eased to a stop in front of the smallest, yet still immense, house on the block.

He approached the front door, knocking his fist once against the wood. The door eased open, and a haggard looking woman in a form-fitting dress appeared.

"Wait here," she said, tone flat.

David stood in awkward silence, straining to hear the laugh of a little girl. Perhaps she'd come bouncing around the corner, throwing herself into his arms and—

The slam of a door somewhere on the second floor caught him off guard. He permitted himself to step slightly inside the house. It was cold. Who keeps their house that cold? It was almost as chilly as it was outside.

A loud whisper,

"He's here,"

Followed by a grumble.

"Now's not the time." It was the woman who answered the door.

More mumbling.

"Again?" this time her voice was higher, louder.

#

Emma laid in the tub, looking at the key between her toes. The blanket lay forgotten on the floor. Her breath rattled as she sucked air in and out.

"Where is it?" She choked back a sob. "Where's my ocean?"

Her hand found the cool metal, twisting the plug shut.

She'd just have to make one for herself.

The nobs twisted under her palm, and glorious water shot forth.

Emma closed her eyes, and waited to disappear.

#

David snapped his head up at the sound of rushing in the walls. He sighed. It was just a faucet, somewhere. He forbade himself the luxury of pacing. How long was this going to take?

"I'm sorry," the woman said, walking down the stairs. "She's decided to throw a fit." She narrowed her eyes upon seeing him clearly inside the house, and not the doorway.

"What do you mean?" David asked, ignoring her.

"She likes to lock herself in the bathroom to get attention. This time, she decided to take the key with her."

"Does she know I'm here?" David asked.

"Children like her are difficult to reason with." The woman offered a demure smile.

A deep shout echoed from upstairs.

"There's water coming under the door!"

David met the woman's eyes.

"She's flooding it!" The shout again.

Her face whitened.

"I'm sure it's fine, dear," she called.

A loud bang.

"How long has she been in there?" David asked, trying desperately to keep his tone even.

"I-I'm not certain," she said.

The shout once more, "Open up, you little piece of—"

David bolted past the woman and up the stairs. What he happened upon looked like a scene from a nightmare.

A man, an inch or two smaller than him, pounded his fists against the white wood. The carpets squished with water under David's every step.

"Move!" David shouted. The man looked up in shock, and David shoved him to the side. Backpedalling a couple steps, David slammed his shoulder into the door. A thin cracking sound.

Again.

"Don't break the—"

Again.

His shoulder ached. The man lunged forward. Taking a deep breath, David kicked up, smashing his foot against it. The door banged against the wall, the hinge ripped clean off. David slipped and fell against the tile. Water rushed out around him.

He gripped the side of the bath, yanking himself to his knees.

She was facedown.

He grabbed her arms, pulling her from the mess. Her blonde hair hung in wet ropes as he pulled it away from her face. She was coughing. Snot, water, everywhere.

But, she was his.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this. Every single view from you guys seriously makes me feel like I'm not alone, like I'm not wasting my time. Like what I have to write might actually matter.  
>This chapter's a little bit shorter, but I kept it at this length for plot purposes.<p>

Hope you enjoy!

Beacons: Chapter Four.

Emma sat, still damp, but wrapped in a towel in the back of David's car. Warm gusts of air massaged her hair and face. David had insisted that every vent within reach be pointed in her direction.

Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, a spike of pride ran through him. He made that person. That person was part of him.

David had carried Emma wordlessly from the house, pausing to speak only once she was in his car. She didn't have any belongings worth taking, apparently, as they'd slammed the door in his face.

No matter. He could stop and get her some things. He tapped the wheel.

"Do you have my ship?" a small, high voice from the backseat. The sound of it sent David's heart racing.

"Why did you try to hurt yourself?" David asked, voice cracking.

"I didn't," Emma said.

"In the tub," David replied.

"I was trying to find the ocean," Emma said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Relief washed over David's chest. "If you don't have the ship, it's okay, cause I escaped anyway."

"Escaped?" David asked.

"I didn't like it there," she whispered.

"Why not?" David asked.

"They were mean." A silence hung in the air as David felt tears well up.

"Sorry," Emma said.

"It's okay," David met her eyes in the rearview mirror. "Hey, next time you want to find the ocean, let me know. We'll find a better way to do it."

#

Mary hadn't been out of the house all weekend. The thought of leaving the warm blankets on Monday morning was enough to make her close her eyes and sigh.

Her apartment was rather barren, save for stacks of books and a dinosaur of a computer. She padded to the sink, placing the one dirty cup at the bottom of the basin. Letting her bare hand warm under the faucet, she glanced back to the tangle of pillows and sheets on the bed. A large, fluffy comforter dragged from her shoulders onto the floors, and she tried her best to keep the splashes from reaching it. It was difficult to keep it balanced with just one hand.

Itches of boredom trickled through her thoughts. Why was her life so much less exciting than everyone else's? Was there something wrong with her?

She turned to the fridge. A lone crayon drawing that Melanie gave her last Thursday stared back. A smiling sun.

Why did she feel so empty?

Why did she feel like she was missing someone?

#

The Dark One gazed into the teacup, letting the shreds of his remaining humanity ache in full force. Just this moment. In the dark. Alone. Allowing the memories of the gold threads, the smell of books, the laughter wash over him.

He felt more human, here. He'd realized this gradually, as his emotions came up to plague him more and more often.

Patience.

His finger caressed the edge of the chip, the glass almost biting into his skin.

Everything would fall into place.

And if it didn't,

He'd make it so.

Until then, he'd go for a walk.

#

Regina sat in her idling car, waiting at the town line for the triumphant David Nolan to return, child in hand. How he'd crossed the line without getting himself killed, she had an inkling of a suspicion.

Gold had been dancing along to her orchestra since their arrival, but that was about to end. He knew. There was no other way.

He not only knew, but he'd helped David. Given him some kind of magic. Nothing big or noticeable. Enough to get the man out of town and back in again.

David's car came into view, and sure enough, as it passed her, Regina saw the lumpy form of another person in the backseat. Regina held her breath. The vehicle passed over the town line. The low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

He'd been planning this. Regina clenched her teeth.

A knock on her window. Regina turned, slow and calculating. She rolled the window down. And there he was, with his cold eyes and crooked smile, leaning against her car. As if he was celebrating his spoils of war.

"Mr. Gold," Regina said, voice even. "It's a bit chilly for a walk." The man met her steel, eye for eye, blade for blade.

"Sometimes I limp out here," he glanced down at the cane in his hands and smiled. "To watch nature. How it changes." He paused. "I find it fascinating." The side of Regina's neck prickled. "Don't you, Ms. Mayor?"

"I don't suppose you saw David returning to town," Regina said, staring deep into him. Willing him to crack. "With his daughter."

"That sounds like a heartwarming scene," he said. "I'm always glad to see happy endings." He let the challenge hang in the air for a second before adding, "I'm afraid the night grows darker, and I must be going. Until next time, Ms. Mayor." He gave her a nod. Then he turned on his heel, and walked away.

"Be careful," Regina called after him, hot lava bubbling in her ribcage. "The roads are slippery. You could fall."

Rumplestilskin didn't hesitate before calling back,

"So could you."

Regina's head was on fire, her fingers jittery on the wheel. It was quite a gamble, showing his face. Daring to come head to head with her.

She straightened, pushing the tension out. If he wanted to try his hand with her, why stop him? It was time to lay her cards on the table.

She pulled the phone from her pocket, dialing the number.

"I think it's time we advance Lacey's treatment."


	5. Chapter 5: Like Moth to a Flame

Beacons: Chapter Five

Like Moth to a Flame

Lacey's head rested against the cool metal door. Her meal would be coming any minute now, and if she wasn't there to catch it, it would hit the floor.

Lacey didn't like eating mashed potatoes off the floor.

The telltale rattle of the guard's keys echoed down the hall, and Belle straightened.

"Back," he grunted. She couldn't see him through small slat, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered much anymore. A colorless tray wiggled it's way through the hole, and Belle yanked it from him. "It's hot." The slat shut.

The most conversation she'd had for at least a week. The keys would be back in the morning, but the morning shifts didn't talk as much as the night shifts. The morning shifts were usually on time, however, and—

Belle's train of thought derailed as she thrust the stale bun into her mouth. Mashed potatoes. Peas. A wet, cooled slab of turkey. The Styrofoam cup of water. It was gone in moments.

But the fun was just beginning.

With steady hands, Belle tore the paper napkin into the shape of a little shirt. The left sleeve was definitely lopsided, but it would do. Grinning, she lifted the bare mattress from the squeaky springs and pulled a stack of napkin people from the space.

"Now, Princess Belle," she murmured, fitting the shirt to the blank faced, craggly doll. "You are dressed for your ball." She patted the doll, standing it on it's two feet. Another doll found its way into her hands.

"Look Belle," she whispered. "It's your prince!"

"Why hello, Sir," she made Belle say.

"The name's Rumplestilskin." The other doll said, Belle's voice taking on a warped lilt.

#

Mary placed the extra-large, family value maple syrup in her basket, making sure it didn't crush the eggs. The market was crowded today, but she'd had no choice. All hardcovers were 60% off, today only. She might be a recluse, but she was an educated one.

If she could just get through this aisle, she could reach the shelves on the other end. Bodies pressed against her, voices, louder than the one in her mind. Her breath came faster and faster. Her feet teetered, and she swayed. The person next to her cursed, shoving her back. Vision blurring. Heart pounding. What was she thinking. What was she thinking. How dare she go to the store and get in their way. She ruined everything, she ruined every—

"Hey," a firm but gentle hand grasped her elbow, pulling her from the chaos. The basket left her arms. There was room to breathe. "You look a little lost."

The words were lost in the air for a good moment before they reached Mary's mind.

"I… I," she stammered, looking up to meet the man's eyes. Warm, rugged, open. "I'm sorry, the people."

"I understand," The man offered a crooked smile and a hand to shake. "The name's Fletcher."

Mary nodded and allowed the man to guide her from the crowd.

"I'd order my groceries in, if I could," Fletcher said. He was reassuring. He smelled of freshly mowed grass. Mary reached for her basket, but he stayed her hand. A flash of black on his wrist. "If you'll allow me, I would be delighted to carry this for you."

"You don't need to do that," Mary said, scuffing her shoe on the tiled floor.

"I'd like to," He gave her another smile. "You're pretty."

The sound of something shattering filled the aisle. Mary whipped her head around, muscles tense. On alert.

A man stood over a puddle of milk and glass shards, a little girl in the basket of the cart to his side. Murky blonde hair. Leather suspenders. Blue jean shirt and eyes that matched it.

The world was silent.

And…

And, he was looking at her.

Still.

But.

She was looking back. 

_Author's Note: Hey, guys. I know it's been a while. Turns out, I'm way better at keeping up when I finally commit and give myself a deadline. I hope you like this chapter. I mean, I think it's cool. As always, I don't own these characters. And, in case anyone was wondering, badgering me to upload more in the reviews DOES help me. I wouldn't have finished this chapter without those pushes. So, thanks. __**Please review! I read every single one!**_


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